


All This Shit Is Weird

by Rhymefire



Series: We Are One [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Quests, War Table Operations, abomination!inquisitor, possessed!inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-04 21:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18821362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhymefire/pseuds/Rhymefire
Summary: A collection of one shots featuring an Inquisitor possessed by a spirit of valour. He's possibly insane, insists on keeping a variety of horrible, fanged creatures and won't stop wandering off into the woods. Dorian is absolutely positive that there's nothing he can do to stop it. Not that he really wants to.





	1. Hinterlands - Playing With Fire

Dorian shook a finger sternly. “Simon, no.”

Simon grinned. Dorian knew that grin. He hated that grin. That grin meant that there was nothing he could do. This was a lost cause. “Simon, yes,” the inquisitor said and put his right hand on the statue.

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “Oh, let him. It is only a statue. I don’t see what harm it can do. The sooner he satisfies his curiosity, the sooner we can get back to actually doing something useful.”

Simon looked positively injured. “Don’t you think that we should investigate the rumours about this statue?”

“A random note you found in the woods,” Dorian said, “does not constitute a rumour. You can’t bring the dead back to life in any case.”

“What I want to know,” Varric said, “is how you keep finding all these random scraps of paper.”

“I don’t know why you keep them,” Cassandra said. She tapped her foot and waved a hand at him irritably. “Well? Go on. The sooner you finish, the sooner we can leave.”

Simon circled around the statue three times, hand tracing the stone. He actually seemed disappointed when nothing happened. He looked around. “It didn’t do anything.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “Of _course_ it didn’t. I’m not sure what you were expec-“

The sound of cracking stone shattered the peace of the grassy grove. As one, they swiveled over to the nearby grave. A stone slab had been set over it, presumably a token effort to keep it safe from possession. Dorian wasn't entirely sure why the peasants nearby thought that a rock would prevent possession, but there it was. A desiccated hand punched through the stone slab. The soil crumbled outwards and the skeleton pulled its torso out. Dorian sighed and froze it in place. The skeleton growled in confusion. It scrabbled at the ice sealing it to the ground.

Simon scuffed the grass with his foot. “Oh, I was hoping it would be a nice spirit.”

Cassandra huffed. She stormed over to the trapped skeleton and punted its head. The skull soared through the air in a graceful arc. The decayed body shuddered and went limp.

Varric whooped. “Nice one, seeker! I think you cleared a tree. You know, this is almost like traveling with Hawke again.”

Cassandra shot the dwarf a dark look. “We are leaving.”

Simon looked at the dead (deader?) skeleton. His lower lip poked out in a pout. Honestly. Dorian patted his shoulder. “Cheer up. Maybe the next ill-advised ritual you perform in the middle of the woods won’t summon something hell bent on killing us.”

Simon perked up. “Do you think so?”

“No.”


	2. Hinterlands - A Spirit in the Lake

“I can’t believe you took us back here so you could go flower picking,” The Iron Bull grumbled.

Simon skirted around the edges of the lake. He saw some blood lotus growing in the mud a few feet away from the water and carefully pinched the flower buds off. “I want to see if the storyteller was right about that spirit that’s supposed to be living in the lake.”

Sera groaned. “You never said we were looking for demons!”

Dorian waved a hand. “Can’t you just use that spirit of yours to find it?”

Simon hummed in thought. “It doesn’t really work that way. If there is a spirit of valour around here, it would be in the Fade. We can’t feel things through the Fade like that. Maybe I could if I let Valour take control, but we don’t like to do that.”

Bull grunted. “Good.”

Sera threw a pinecone at him. It bounced off his head. “Don’t get all creepy, yeah? I like you, don’t ruin it.”

“Relax, you guys. I’m just going to put some blood lotus in the offering bowl and see what happens.”

Dorian set his hands on his hips and frowned. “Do you remember that horrid statue? And how I told you not to touch it? But you insisted because you wanted to see what would happen? And we were attacked by that horrible skeleton?”

“It’s a valour spirit, not a demon.” Maybe. He had a handful of blood lotus anyways. Simon tossed it in the offering dish before they could stop him. Valour eased to the forefront of his mind, pulsing curiously. His companions drew their weapons and looked around warily.

 _:There!:_ Valour buzzed with pleasure.

The water glowed with power. Ultramarine sparks leapt from the lake’s surface. Something swelled under the water’s surface. The hilt of a sword burst through the liquid. Simon laughed and grabbed the hilt firmly with both hands. Slowly, he pulled it free. It was like pulling it out of molten rock. He almost stepped back, but Valour cried out, _:Hold. There is another coming.:_

He held the greatsword tightly and peered into the lake’s swirling depths. Another dim shadow moved under the surface. A belt shot out and Simon caught it with the sword tip. _:Is that everything?:_ he asked Valour.

_:I cannot imagine there would be more. Let us examine these armaments. I would test them.:_

“Thank you,” Simon said to the spirit in the lake. “You honour us by giving us your creations.”

“It’s shitting swords now!” Sera pointed at the weapon he held.

Simon tipped the blade so that the belt slid off and onto the dock. He reached down and looped an arm through the belt so he could hold the greatsword with both hands. “It’s beautiful.” He drifted away from the water so he could examine it in comfort.

Dorian came over to look at it with him. “But where did it come from?”

The blade’s steel was patterned in a way that Simon doubted any mortal smith could match. He swung it slowly through the air. “The balance is perfect. Spirits of valour train for battle. They’re trying to find the perfect expression of combat through valourous deeds. Helping people battle their fears and that sort of thing. They make weapons and armour in the Fade.”

Sera threw another pinecone at him. “Creepy!” She went over to loot the cabin moldering by the lake.

Bull grunted and came over to examine it. “Demon craftsmen, huh? Where’d you learn how to hold a sword anyways?”

Simon smiled and ran through one of the simple drills that Valour liked. “Valour showed me a few tricks, that’s all. It’s different outside of the Fade, though. I can only do the physical bits.”

“And just like that you made it weird.”

He held the sword out. “Do you want it, The Iron Bull? You won’t find a better weapon.”

Bull eyed it speculatively. “Sure it’s safe, boss?”

He tried not to look offended. “Of course it is. Besides, this is an honour. Valour would never give away any of his weapons for some flowers.” That made him pause.

Bull took the sword from him and swung it through the air. “Huh. It is pretty good. How about that?”

Simon scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Why does he like flowers so much?”

Bull shrugged. “Who knows why demons do anything? We making camp, boss? Sun’s about to set.”

He nodded and cinched the belt around his waist. He couldn’t help but run his fingers around the smooth leather. It didn’t look as impressive as the sword, but the craftsmanship was still exquisite. _:You don’t like blood lotus.:_

_:It is only a flower. I have no opinion about blood lotus. Why should I care about it?:_

_:I’m not sure. Why do you think this spirit cares about flowers so much?:_

_:I do not care. We will meet with the spirit tonight. I would compare our armaments.:_

Simon smiled. _:That sounds like fun. And I’ll ask him about the flowers.:_

Dorian poked him in the arm and Simon jumped a bit. “I’m curious,” he said. “What exactly is the difference between a valour spirit and a courage spirit? It sounds like they should be the same thing.”

Valour bristled a bit in offense. “Sort of? They both deal with acting through fear, but they approach it differently. Courage spirits are more like Cole. They’re healers and they can help with any kind of fear or worry, but valour spirits deal with a specific type of fear.”

“And what type would that be?” Dorian leaned on his staff.

“Fear of danger. That’s why they’re warriors. It’s about honour too, in a way. Valour spirits want you to fight fear, but they’re more physical about it. That’s why they’re always dueling people.”

“I’ve never seen you duel someone.”

“Sometimes in the Fade, Valour goes around dueling people so they can prove themselves. The idea is to show them how to fight against something. That way they’re more likely to fight back when something threatens them and they get scared.”

Dorian laughed. “Well, that sounds exciting. What do you do, watch on the sidelines?”

Simon grinned. “It’s fun. We help people.” He pointed at the abandoned cabin. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“We haven’t even had dinner yet.” Dorian caught his arm.

He slipped out of reach. “We’re going to try talking to the valour spirit living here. We want to know why he likes flowers so much and compare weaponry.”

Dorian smiled fondly and shook his head. Then his smile turned a bit coy. He darted close and kissed Simon on the corner of the mouth. “All right, leave me alone here to help with dinner.”

“You’ve never cooked in your life. All you do is watch Bull cook and complain about what he’s doing.”

“That is helping,” Dorian said loftily.

 

The valour spirit found them easily in the Fade. She stretched out her arms in welcome. Her patch of the Fade was coated in blood lotus. Some were as tall as trees. They grew thick as grass and swayed in the wind. Simon took a moment to admire them. Valour strode forward. He already had his favourite weapon – a halberd with an elegantly curved blade – to show her. She brightened and pulled a claymore out of thin air.

Simon padded after him. Some of the blood lotus was tall enough for him to run his fingers through it and remain standing. The two valour spirits talked about different crafting techniques. Valour pulled him forward. “This one is mine,” he said.

“Thank you for the gifts,” Simon said.

“There is no need for thanks, mortal. You gave me blood lotus. It is a fair trade.”

“Why do you like blood lotus?”

She seemed honestly surprised. She swung her claymore about thoughtfully. “It is like me. It inspires mortals to acts of valour.”

“Show us,” Valour demanded. “I would see this so I can better appreciate the plant.”

The Fade shifted around them. The blood lotus shrank down in size until it was closer to how the plant actually looked. Rows of beehives sprang up in neat rows. A human figure crept out of thin air and snuck over to the hives. It held a torch. Simon couldn’t help but note that the proportions were a bit off. The legs were too long, for one thing. The figure tried to use the smoke to calm the bees, but it fumbled and dropped it. The blood lotus exploded into flame and the figure started coughing.

A gust of wind blew the smoke through the beehives. They nearly exploded with bees. The bees poured out in a furious wave and stung the thief. The thief dropped to its knees and began to writhe in pain. Then it all dissolved. The bees, the figure and the hives turned to smoke. The blood lotus remained.

“So the smoke,” Simon said slowly, “made the bees angry and they attacked.”

“Not so,” the other valour spirit said. “They were frightened of the thief and the blood lotus created smoke to embolden them. They defended their homes and children.”

“I understand.” Valour nodded and patted a nearby flower in appreciation. “It is a noble plant.” He turned to Simon. “Can we not use this?”

“You know what, I think we can. Let’s go back to the others.”

The other valour spirit pointed at him with her claymore. “You wear my belt well, mortal. Where is the sword? Do you not have it with you?”

Valour stepped forward. “We have given it to one who fights with us. It is being used for acts of valour.”

Thankfully, the other spirit nodded seriously. “As it should be.”

 

Simon scrambled out of his bedroll and ran outside. The others were staring at a stew pot they’d set up over the campfire. “Sera! I’ve got this incredible idea for the bee bombs.”

She looked over and grinned. “Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

He pointed at the blood lotus growing by the lake. “You’ve already got smoke in the bombs to help keep the bees mad, but if we funnel smoke from burnt blood lotus in there as well they’ll be deadly.”

Sera unhooked one of the bee bombs from her belt and hefted it in her hand. “Let’s do it, Ser Lordybloomers. Got a funnel round, somewhere.” She darted off to dig through her backpack.

Dorian looked pained. “I wish you wouldn’t encourage her with the bees. One of those days she’s going to miss and we’ll be stung to death. The Venatori would laugh themselves sick.”

Bull shrugged. “Freaks people out, though. Nothing like bees to make an enemy line break.”

Sera laughed and held a funnel up triumphantly. “What you waiting for? Get some flowers.”

Sera and Simon scrambled over to the lake’s edge. Sera waded right into the water to scoop out the blossoms. He stuck to the shore. Soon enough, they had a good pile of damp reddish-purple blossoms. Sera went over to The Iron Bull and kicked him in the shin. “Get a move on. We need the fire.”

Bull picked up the stew pot. “Don’t drop those in the food, Sera.” He carried it away to a safe distance. “It just finished, anyways.”

“Your stew tastes like piss. Still better than nug, though.”

Dorian drew away from them. “You’re not seriously going to burn those, are you? Are you aware blood lotus is a hallucinogen?”

“Stop making up words.”

“I’m not. Hallucinogen means that it’s toxic. You’re going to start hallucinating and get delirious.”

“We’re not gonna eat them, you shit,” Sera laughed. She dumped her armful of blood lotus into the crackling flames.

Simon added his into the fire. “We’ll be careful not to breathe the smoke in.”

“Speak for yourself, yeah?” She leaned over to inhale a good lungful. “Gonna get _wicked high_.”

Dorian threw his arms up and stormed off to a safe distance. Simon shrugged and took the funnel. The bee bombs had a small compartment in the side. Once you opened it, you revealed a tiny slot covered in mesh to prevent the bees from escaping. The small side of the funnel fit into it perfectly. He held it carefully over the fire and Sera wafted as much smoke as she could into it.

Simon stretched out with his magic to make sure the bees weren’t dying. “I think they’re okay in there.”

“Friggin pissed, yeah?” Sera held up two more bee bombs. “Do it with these ones. Gonna ruin someone’s day with em.”

Eventually, they filled the bee bombs with the smoke. Sera did indeed get wicked high. She grabbed a bee bomb and swaggered over to The Iron Bull and Dorian. “Let’s test em!”

“If you throw those at us, I will burst into demons right here and now, Sera,” Dorian snapped.

“Frigg off, pissbag. On bears, you dick. Let’s go find some.”

The Iron Bull picked up his new greatsword. “Bear hunting in the middle of the night? Count me in.”


	3. Hinterlands - Where the Druffalo Roam

“We’ve got a new quest,” Simon said cheerfully.

Blackwall looked up. He sat on a stump and leaned over the dying campfire. He repositioned the frying pan over the burning coals. “Good for us. Can it wait until after breakfast? These sausages are almost done.”

Simon sat next to the campfire. He stared at the sausages as though he could will them to cook faster. He really was adorable. “Calm down,” Dorian told him. “This amazing quest of yours can wait a few minutes.”

Cole materialized next to them. “Scared and alone. Smell the wolves. Monsters in the dark.”

Blackwall’s brow furrowed. “What’s that mean, then?”

“Someone’s lost in the woods,” Simon said.

The warden huffed and wrapped the half-cooked sausages in cheesecloth. “You should have said sooner. Let’s pack up.”

Dorian tried not to groan. They had recently discovered that Blackwall was one of the few members of the inner circle who could actually cook. Although he was rather annoying to be around, having him around meant that dinner wasn’t nondescript stews and half burnt chunks of meat. It was a fair trade off, in Dorian’s opinion.

Simon sprang up. Between the four of them, they packed up their camp in record time. They tramped through the wilderness. “Do we know where to start looking?” Blackwall asked.

Cole said, “Grass. Rocks. Boulders.”

Dorian sighed. “So not near the river, then?”

Cole looked at him in incomprehension. “She likes rivers.”

Simon shouted suddenly and knelt down. Either he had found a clue or a very interesting plant/rock/stick/whatever. Knowing him, it could be either one. “She was here,” he said. “I found tracks.”

As one they went over to look at them. Simon grinned up at them. “Blackwall, do you think they’re fresh tracks?”

Dorian groaned. Blackwall said, “Inquisitor, those are druffalo tracks.”

Simon looked a bit puzzled. “Of course they are. But are they fresh?”

“You dragged us away from a delicious breakfast so we could hunt down a lost druffalo?” Dorian nudged him with his staff.

“That’s what I expected from one of your type,” Blackwall said. He yanked Simon up and slapped him on the shoulder. Simon coughed a bit. “The farmers will be happy. He’s doing a good thing.” He pointed to the west. “She should be down there, Inquisitor. Let’s go save her.”

Cole meandered after Blackwall and the Inquisitor happily. Dorian looked woefully up at the sky. His stomach grumbled. He caught up to the others and nudged the warden with his staff. “So you’re saying that you’re absolutely fine skipping breakfast today.”

Blackwall glanced at the inquisitor. Simon tripped happily through the grass without a care in the world. Dorian had no doubt that he was ignoring them in favour of their new ‘valiant quest.’

“We should be doing our best to help the farmers here,” Blackwall said sternly. His stomach growled loudly. He blushed and coughed a bit. “Although maybe it could have waited ten minutes or so.”

Dorian smirked in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”

“Hey, guys,” Simon shouted. “We’ve got to be really close because I just found some druffalo shit!”

Blackwall looked pained. “Great.”


	4. Fallow Mire - Beneath the Mire

Simon traced the bindings of Widris’ journal. The leather had turned thin and threadbare over the years. The pages had crumbled in some parts and were bloodstained in others. The writing inside was near-illegible. A terrified scrawl.  

“Enjoying the glimpse into your future, my dear?” Vivienne asked.

Simon slowly shook his head. Valour bristled inside him. “I was just wondering where her first journal is. It must be lost in the Fallow Mire somewhere, but I don’t even know where to begin looking.”

“Why would you want it?” Blackwall scowled at the rotted house they had made camp in for the night. It appeared to be sinking, slowly but surely, into the muck. In a few years, it might even be completely submerged. He looked almost comical. The warden had wedged himself firmly into his bedroll and looked around as though just daring the house to collapse on top of him.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s just something about it. It’s off.”

Vivienne sniffed disdainfully. She pointedly unfurled her bedroll and slipped into it. Dorian came to sit beside him. “Well, it was written by a paranoid, insane woman living in a bog. Honestly, living here was the worst decision she could have made. It all went downhill from there.”

Simon couldn’t help but smile. “Well, there was all the demon summoning.”

“That too.”

He eased the journal open. “I think she was trying to get into the Fade. Or maybe the void.”

Blackwall visibly shuddered. “Maker. Why would anyone want that? It’s good we put her down. She was a danger to everyone around her.”

Simon nodded. “I don’t know. The spirits were trying to tell her that she didn’t have the power for it, but she wouldn’t listen.” He held it up. “I can take first watch. I want to look at this a bit more.”

Dorian smoothed his hair back. “You’ve already read it twice, but by all means. Try not to get too distracted, amatus. I would hate for your reading to be disturbed by a corpse gnawing on my toes.”

He smiled at the pet name. “I wouldn’t let that happen. Now, go to sleep.”

Dorian smirked and traced a finger along his jawline. “I’ll take second watch. Wake me up next, won’t you?”

He nodded and began to read.

 

Simon lit the veilfire torch and held it close to the runes. “I think Widris made these.”

Blackwall snorted. “You expect me to believe a skinny, half-starved girl made these?” He rapped the enormous stone beacon with a gauntleted knuckle.

He shook his head. “No, the stone was probably here earlier, but she turned them into beacons to summon spirits. And she definitely carved these veilfire runes. The handwriting is the same.”

Dorian leaned in to get a better look. “Hmm. They’re horribly written.”

Vivienne adjusted the hem of her dress. “No doubt to find new demons to make deals with. You needn’t bother with those horrible runes, my dear. There’s nothing worth learning there unless you’re going to start binding demons as she did.” She paused as though in thought. “Although, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

Simon decided that it was pointless to try explaining that demons and spirits weren’t really all that different from each other. “I’m not going to bind anything.” He did take out his own notebook and write down his impressions of the veilfire rune.

Veilfire runes were always difficult to decode. It was a type of writing that purely relied on sending thoughts and ideas directly into the reader’s mind, which meant that if the writer wasn’t focused it could get very messy. Widris hadn’t been focused at all. The veilfire’s message scurried through his mind in a panic. The message twisted this way and that like a confused snake. Most of it was gibberish. Simon grimaced and shook his head to clear it. Dorian stroked a hand down his spine. “Perhaps we should leave these be, Simon.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m okay. Besides, I think there’s something to learn here.” He sifted through the scattered impressions. “I think it’s a code. There are some letters and numbers that repeat. And some math, for some reason.”

He pulled out his notebook and wrote down everything Widris’ horribly constructed veilfire rune had dumped into his mind.

 

They had just activated the second beacon and mown down the wave of corpses and demons it drew. Blackwall grunted with exertion. His sword had gotten stuck in a ribcage and he was having trouble removing it. The bones rattled in mockery.

Simon lit the veilfire. Blackwall cursed. “Do you have to do that? It’s good we’re killing the demons, but do you have to read those damn runes? The woman was crazy.”

“I know that, but I want to see what the code is. It could be important.”

The second rune evoked a rush of bitter arrogance. The feelings rushed through him like a flood. He shivered reflexively. Valour circled a bit uneasily in his mind. “I’m really glad we killed her,” he said. “She was a menace.”

He took a note of the feelings in his journal. He didn’t think they would be useful, but there was no harm in being thorough. Behind him, Blackwall brought his foot down hard on the ribcage. The rotted bones cracked apart and he pried his sword loose. “Damn thing nicked the blade.”

 

Just before he lit the third veilfire torch, Vivienne asked, “Are you sad, watching your fellow demons being killed like this?”

Dorian smiled and looked over to Simon. Thankfully, he didn’t take Vivienne’s continual snide remarks and interrogations as anything serious. If Simon had been hurt by it, he thought, Dorian would probably snap at her. But Simon wasn’t bothered by it. Vivienne may have liked to think that she talked a big game, but she had nothing on his old knight-commander. His old knight-commander, for example, could have put him in solitary. Words were nothing. “Not really,” he said. He gestured at the sodden bog around them. “The Veil is thin here and the spirits slip through. When they get trapped in a corpse, it’s horrifying for them. They go insane. It’s a good thing we’re killing them. We’re sending them home.”

Blackwall made a face. “That doesn’t make me feel better about fighting undead.”

“That’s not always true,” Dorian said. “Sometimes they’re just reliving the last moments of the body. They see the body’s last memories and think, ‘oh, how wonderful all this stabbing is. I think I’ll just do that then.’”

Blackwall’s scowl intensified. “That’s not better.”

Simon smiled. Dorian really was smart. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“I’m not. Fields of mud. Ugh.” Simon slowly looked him up and down. The bottom of his robes were indeed spattered with mud. He grinned at the sight of it. Dorian looked pained and gestured at the dirty fabric. “This is your fault. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

He lit the veilfire torch and examined the rune. Images of blood lotus shot through his mind as though loosed from a faulty crossbow. He bit his lip and scribbled it down in his journal.

 

The last veilfire rune blossomed through his mind with smug and vengeful triumph. Simon gasped and scrambled for his notebook. “I’ve got it! I know what it is. It’s a poison.”

“She was trying to get into the Fade,” Blackwall said gruffly. “That doesn’t say ‘poison.’ That says ‘crazy.’”

Simon scribbled down the coded recipe. “I just have to use the cipher from her journal on this, and we’ll have the recipe.”

“It sounds like if we’d just left her alone,” Vivienne said, “she would have killed herself and saved us the trouble.”

He nodded. “Definitely. I wouldn’t want to drink something with blood lotus in it.”

“It depends on how it is used,” Vivienne said. “Give me a copy of the recipe once you’ve finished decoding it, my dear.”

He looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“But of course. We can’t have you dying because you try mixing together some foul poison made by a madwoman. We need you alive, darling.”

“Thanks. I mean, it’s not like I’d drink it or anything, but thanks.”

She looked at him imperiously. “Your gratitude is not necessary. I’m only doing my part to prevent your untimely death. You have, after all, been possessed by a demon. We need you as sane as possible.”

Dorian looped an arm around his waist and tugged him close. “We’re too late, Vivienne. I’m fairly certain he’s already crazy. Taking us through a mud-drenched bog, of all places.”

Simon huffed and batted him off.


	5. Fallow Mire - Lost Souls

Dorian laughed and drew another card. Sera stuck out her tongue and slugged him in the shoulder. “Shut it,” she said. She waved her cards around. “I’ll take your gold next game. Wait and see.”

They sat on the floor in one of Hargrave Keep’s many rooms. Simon and Cassandra were seeing to the wounded soldiers they had just rescued. They had burst into the room heroically and the soldiers had marveled at the fact that the inquisitor himself had come to rescue them. Simon had looked around, set his mouth in a grim line that Dorian hadn’t ever seen before and summoned a wave of healing magic. Cassandra had settled down to watch him and waved Dorian and Sera out of the room so they wouldn’t distract him.

A little part of him prickled protectively at the thought that Cassandra didn’t trust Simon enough to let him heal people on his own. What was she worried about? That he’d go mad and start practicing blood magic right then and there? The reason he had acquiesced was because Simon had treated this as normal. He’d only smiled at her, as though she was doing him a favour. It was bizarre. Sometimes he thought that he’d never understand how things were in the south.

Cassandra kicked the door open. Sera dropped her cards. The seeker had slung Simon over her shoulder. “Dorian,” she said, exasperated. “Explain to him that he cannot heal all of the soldiers.”

“Least he’s doing the magic thing to help people,” Sera said defensively. “He’s not punching down or anything.”

Cassandra sighed and placed Simon on his bedroll. “It is not a matter of punching. He’s exhausted himself and refused to stop healing so I dragged him to you.” She gestured angrily at Dorian. “Do something.”

Dorian went over to Simon. The inquisitor stared at him fuzzily. His eyes crossed a bit, and then focused on him. He grinned. Dorian knelt down and placed a cool hand on his forehead. Simon’s skin had turned hot and clammy. “M’helping.”

“Cassandra, are you sure you didn’t punch him?”

She huffed. “ _There was no punching!_ ” She stormed out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She opened it again and poked her head back in. “Please keep him here. He cannot overexert himself like this. I am sorry that I let it happen. I did not realize how weak he’d become until he stumbled.” She glared furiously at Simon. “I had assumed he would say something if he felt badly.” She pointed a gauntleted finger at him. “I will be watching you more closely from now on,” she hissed. Her furious glare turned to Sera. “Get out of here. The last thing he needs is you pestering him.”

Sera cackled and sprang to her feet. “Not like I wanna be here while they go jousting or whatever.” She sauntered out of the room. Cassandra shut the door firmly behind them.

Ah. Now he understood. She watched him because she cared. There was some charm about the southern templars and seekers who took their vows to protect mages seriously. Dorian pulled Simon half into his lap. “I hope you realize there’s nothing I can do about this. We only have one lyrium potion with us.”

Simon mumbled something into his chest. Dorian pulled the lyrium potion off his belt and dangled it between two fingers. Simon’s eyes snagged on the bottle. He shivered a bit. “It sounds like the Fade,” he whispered. His eyes flickered blue.

Dorian smoothed his hair back. The thin strands slid through his fingers. He held the bottle to Simon’s lips. “Drink up. She’s right, you know. You shouldn’t overextend like this.”

Simon actually huffed at that. He grabbed the lyrium potion and nearly spilled it over them. He chugged it and set it clumsily on the floor. He shivered again. “I’m helping. They’re hurt.”

He tried to lever himself up. Dorian clamped an arm around his chest and pressed Simon back down into him. “You’ve done enough helping. It’s time for rest.”

Simon looked at him woefully. “They’re hurt for me. They thought I would save them. _They got hurt for me_.”

Dorian’s breath caught in his throat. “You did save them.”

Simon’s gaze wandered. His eyes glazed over. He stared vacantly into the empty air. “They thought we would help them. They risked their lives because of me. They weren’t afraid.” Simon weakly grabbed at Dorian’s robes. His fingers twisted into the fabric. His eyes flickered blue again and he dragged in a deep, shuddering breath. “We would have felt it,” he said in slow, echoing tones, “if they were afraid.”

Dorian knew how much Simon hated it when people called him ‘Herald of Andraste.’ His face would pucker as though he’d just bitten into a lemon and he’d tense as though his skin had started to crawl. Dorian had always thought that Simon had been sent by the Maker, but it was times like this that made him believe deep in his bones. That Simon wanted a relationship with him was impossible. It was laughable. But he did. The thought flickered through his mind that it might be blasphemous to kiss him like this, when his eyes glowed lyrium-blue and his voice echoed slightly and even though exhausted and weak as a kitten his spirit passenger made his aura curl about him with rippling power. Dorian kissed him anyways.

Simon smiled as though he’d been drugged. Then, because he was a ridiculous man, he tried to stand up again. Dorian wound his arms tighter about Simon, who whined in frustration. “None of that. I assume that you stabilized all the critical cases first?”

Simon tilted his head in momentary incomprehension. He made a sound that Dorian took as assent.

“And then you tried to heal as many people as possible before you collapsed over our poor seeker?”

The inquisitor sulked and tried to pull away. Dorian sighed and pushed him down onto the bedroll. “No, Simon. You’ve done enough for one day. They’re going to be just fine. Right now, you’re going to stay here with me and rest.”

“But I want to help.”

Dorian did the only think he could think of to distract the frustrating boy. He straddled Simon and ran his tongue along his throat. Simon squeaked and went still underneath him. Ha. He looked up at the inquisitor through his lashes. “You’re going to stay here with me,” he purred.

Drained and ill as he was, Simon flushed. He gave a tiny nod. Satisfaction curling through his veins, Dorian lay down beside him. He pulled Simon into his arms and kissed him gently. “Now, go to sleep.”

Simon softened and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Dorian smiled and ran a hand down his spine. Simon may have been sent by the Maker, but it was Dorian that had been blessed.


	6. Hinterlands - Ocularum

At first, he didn’t know why it hurt. Simon stared at the tranquil skulls wordlessly. He reached out and brushed his fingertips along a bleached eye socket. It stared back at him.

 _:What did the horned man say?:_ Valour hissed. _:They were helpless. They were weak. They were defenseless. He thinks this is a good deed? That this is honourable?:_

The Iron Bull’s words run through his head. ‘Not like the Tranquil were doing much with them.’ Mechanically, Simon asked, “What did you mean by that?”

He didn’t turn. He didn’t want to look at the qunari. Cassandra put a gloved hand on his shoulder. She squeezed wordlessly.

Cloth rustled. The Iron Bull must have gestured. “I’m just saying, boss. They’re only Tranquil. I mean, you’ve seen them right?”

“Get out.”

Bull must have opened his mouth to say something because Vivienne’s voice cut through the air like steel through silk. “You should listen to the inquisitor, darling.”

Heavy footsteps lumbered out of the cabin. The door shut quietly. Cassandra and Vivienne walked slowly into his view. Vivienne was perfectly composed. Cassandra’s face had crumpled with anguish. “This is my fault,” she said. “I should have searched harder for them. I-“

Through the dim haze of his own stuttering thoughts, Simon heard his own voice. “Do you think this is my fault?”

Cassandra’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Of course not.”

“I had a camp in the southeastern corner of this region. I stayed there with the dozen Tranquil I brought from my tower. I focused on helping them. I didn’t think to look around for the other Tranquil.” He spread his hands out to gesture at the cabin’s gruesome contents. “Is this my fault?”

“No,” she said firmly. “You couldn’t have known. There was nothing you could have done.”

“Then it isn’t your fault either.”

Cassandra’s breath choked out of her. She nodded jerkily. “Of course, Inquisitor. As you say.”

He needed to think. Valour seethed inside him like a wounded beast. The spirit vibrated with righteous fury. _:Such acts are not valiant. Such acts are cowardly. The horned man is dishonourable.:_

Simon took a deep breath. He felt like a glass of water about to overflow. He tried to focus on the clothes against his skin, the air on his cheek, anything to keep Valour’s fury contained. The spirit’s rage flooded him like a storm. He was lost in it. “I want all of the remains taken with us. We’re going back to Skyhold. These people are going to be laid to rest. Alexius will pay for this. The Venatori will not get away with this. We will avenge their deaths.”

_:We will test them. We will break them apart.:_

“We will,” he said.

Simon couldn’t really say what happened on the journey back to Skyhold. He spent the time communing with Valour. He spent it balanced on a knife’s edge. The spirit’s fury suffused him. It curled through his veins and threaded through his muscles. It prickled under his skin. It was all he could do contain it. He felt like a fruit ready to burst. At any moment, power could spill out of him in messy waves. He spent the journey in a hollow, near-catatonic state.

One of the worst things about it was that he could clearly remember the people he’d seen dragged away kicking and screaming to be turned Tranquil. The templars had done it to prevent possession. Mages had volunteered for it because they had been afraid of possession. He clearly remembered one sad-eyed woman who had thrown herself at a templar’s feet one day and begged to be turned Tranquil.

They had been wrong all this time. It didn’t prevent possession at all. Thousands of mages had been turned Tranquil and for what? Nothing.

Someone ensured that he ate and stared at him worriedly. He couldn’t say who it was.

 

By the time they’d arrived at Skyhold, Simon knew exactly what he wanted to do. By now, the spirit’s fury had simmered to a low boil in his gut. He shook off Cassandra. Josie stood waiting at the gates, clipboard at the ready and face drawn with worry. The Tranquil skulls had been carefully wrapped in cloth and brought along with them by wagon. Simon plucked one out and unwrapped it. He held it out for his advisor to see. “I’m going to judge Alexius now.”

Josie nodded cautiously. “I have already added his crimes against the Tranquil to the list.”

Simon had never loved her as much as he did in that moment. “Thank you.” He wrapped the skull back up and carefully placed it back in the wagon.

Valour coiled inside him, humming with excitement. _:We will see the man responsible for this act of cowardice?:_

 _:Yes.:_ Simon bit his lip nervously. _:I need you to settle down a bit, okay?:_

The spirit’s affront washed through him. _:I am perfectly settled. I am looking forward to correcting an act of cowardice. This man has broken an oath to protect those weaker than him. Such acts are dishonourable. His oath should be fulfilled.:_

Simon paused. He hadn’t thought of that. He took a steadying breath and forced himself back into motion. He walked to the main hall slowly, so he would have more time to speak. _:I wasn’t planning on doing that. Honestly, I thought we’d just kill him.:_

Valour coiled in indignation. _:But his oath is unfulfilled. He must see it through.:_

_:What are you, a spirit of duty? Who cares about his stupid oath? Look at what he’s done. Don’t you care about the people he’s hurt?:_

Simon sat on the throne. Normally, he hated the damn thing. When he’d first seen it, he’d curled his lip at the thought of looming over people like that. Now, he didn’t mind it so much. He felt Valour gathering his power. _:Don’t you dare,:_ Simon said firmly, _:pull me into the Fade. The hall is full of people. Alexius will be here soon. Everyone will see.:_

Valour released the gathered power and sulked. _:His oath is unfulfilled. He should have the opportunity to wipe his act of cowardice clean.:_

Simon almost wished he was in the Fade now. That way he could throw something at the spirit’s head. _:It’s really not that simple.:_

_:Why not?:_

He couldn’t really answer that. _:It just isn’t.:_

_:You only desire vengeance.:_

_:Fine, you’re right. He hurt the Tranquil and now I want to kill him. Happy?:_

_:No. That is not what we are. We are Valour. We are one.:_

The guards’ footsteps rang through the hall. Simon looked up and his insides squirmed suddenly. He’d been so focused on Valour that he hadn’t realized how many people were in the hall. It was filled to the brim with Inquisition troops and workers. There was a startling amount of Orlesian nobles with fans and glittering masks. His advisors and inner circle had even lined up against a wall. He faltered. He honestly hadn’t expected such a large audience. Or an audience at all. Dorian’s face was carefully smoothed out. Simon realized, with a distinct sinking feeling in his gut, that he was afraid.

The guards held Alexius firmly. The magister stood at the foot of the stairs leading up to his throne.

Valour pushed insistently at the forefront of his mind. _:I would see him.:_

_:Are you fucking insane? Do you see how many people there are? We can’t just start glowing with power right now. That would be a terrible idea.:_

_:I do not understand why. People know and they have not hurt you. Do you fear harm?:_

Josephine began to read out the list of crimes.

Simon gripped the armrests. _:Only a few people know, not everybody in the hall. I’m not revealing you in front of a group of random people.:_

_:Look at that man, insolent mage. He fears living without his son. He prays for death. He must face his fear. He must uphold his oath.:_

He opened his mouth to snap at the spirit and the roomful of people took a breath of anticipation. The Orlesians fluttered their fans excitedly.

“I couldn’t save my son,” Alexius said. “Do you think my fate matters to me?”

The spirit lurched forward like an unruly horse. Simon shut his eyes quickly and did his best to yank Valour’s power back. He didn’t quite manage it. For a blinding instant, Valour’s power suffused him and he felt the magister’s fear pierce him like an arrow. Valour seethed. _:He lies. He is afraid.:_

“Will you offer nothing more in your defense?” Josie asked.

“You’ve won nothing. The people you saved, the acclaim you’ve gathered – you’ll lose it all in the storm to come. Render your judgement, Inquisitor.”

Valour coiled restlessly inside him like a wounded beast. _:He goads us. He wants us to strike him down.:_

 _:Fine. You win. Just stop. Please stop.:_ Valour eased back a bit. Simon released the death grip he’d had on the armrests. He dragged in a steadying breath. “You swore to the mages that you would protect them. You’ve broken that vow. Fiona will take charge of you. Any knowledge, favour or coin you have will go towards the mages’ future.”

He didn’t hear Alexius’ response. Valour surged in exultation. He screwed his eyes shut and grit his teeth through the spirit’s revelry. After a few moments, someone discretely tapped his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Josephine stood above him. He took her hand and let her lead him from the hall. “Are you well?” she asked quietly.

He nodded carefully. “Valour was just being his usual self. I need to be alone for a bit.” He felt tired, more than anything. Josie nodded. As she turned to leave, he snagged her elbow. “Wait, there’s something I want done.”

 

The Iron Bull approached him a few hours later. “Your templars are getting confused, boss.”

Simon was busy weeding the garden. He’d been trying to grow a row of blood lotus, but had been having trouble getting the seeds to sprout. Maybe the soil was too dry. “No, they’re not. I set Lysette to watch you.” The qunari grunted. Simon ignored him. Instead, he looked around for Lysette. He spotted her quickly, as she’d taken her helmet off when she saw him scanning the garden. She nodded at him. “The templars,” he said, “took vows to protect mages. Lots of them forget that, but I’m pretty sure that most of the templars in the Inquisition remember that.” He stabbed into the earth with his weeder and pried out a dandelion.

Bull crouched down beside him. “Look, is this about what I said about the Tranquil?”

“Yes.” Valour coiled in his mind like an ill-tempered serpent.

 _:This man is dishonourable,:_ the spirit whispered.

“I know that,” he said.

Bull frowned. “What?”

Simon shuffled to the side a bit so he could reach another dandelion. He worked the weeder into the soil. “Valour said you were dishonourable and I agree.”

Bull actually laughed. The cheer might have been forced, but Simon couldn’t really tell. “Come on, boss. I’m on your side here.”

Simon bit back the sudden urge to smack him upside the head. He shook his head firmly. “There aren’t sides. There’s never been sides. There’s just people.” His voice came out steady, which he was eternally grateful to Valour for. He turned to look at the qunari. “This is the Inquisition. What exactly do you think we’re trying to do here?”

Bull gestured at the sky. “You sealed the Breach. Now we just have to kill Corypheus.”

“Wrong.”

Bull settled on the stone bench. He watched Simon weed for a bit in silence. Finally, he sighed. “All right, boss. You tell me. What are we doing?”

“We help people. The Tranquil are people. I can’t trust you around them.”

“Look, you’re taking it all wrong. I didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a joke.” The Iron Bull watched him carefully. He didn’t seem unnerved at all. They could have been talking about the weather. Simon bit back the urge to unleash Valour’s power. It was petty, but he wanted the qunari to be afraid. He wanted him to understand just how wrong he’d been.

 _:We are not demons that feed off fear,:_ Valour said firmly.

“You’re right,” Simon said. Bull smiled. Simon scowled at him. “Not you,” he snapped. “I was talking to Valour again. He was reminding me about what’s important.” Nothing about The Iron Bull changed physically, but Simon had the odd feeling that he’d unsettled him somehow. Simon brushed the thought aside. It wasn’t about that, anyways. “Sometimes I get distracted from what’s really important. Valour helps keep me on track.”

Bull grunted. “Right. That’s not creepy at all.”

“You made your opinions very clear, The Iron Bull,” he said matter of factly. “You see the Tranquil as things instead of people. I’ve seen people do horrible things to Tranquil because they think that. I can’t trust you around them as long as you think that and I’m not arrogant enough to think that some speech from me is going to change how you think about them. All I can do is prepare for the day that you decide that it’s okay to mistreat the Tranquil because you don’t think they’re actual people.” He pointed at Lysette. She saluted him. That made him smile at her. He’d never actually had a templar salute him before.

“The woman who’s been following you is named Lysette,” he said. “She’s one of the best templars I’ve ever met. She takes her vows seriously. As you’ve probably figured out by now, her job is to follow you around and watch you. If you mistreat the Tranquil in any way, she’ll take action.”

Bull gusted out a sigh. “Oh, come on. I’m not Tal-Vashoth. I’m not going to hurt your people.”

Simon stabbed the weeder into the earth. He coiled upwards. Valour hissed in his mind like a boiling kettle. “You don’t understand.” The spirit’s power swelled up in him like a wave. He gritted his teeth and tried to swallow it back. He might as well have tried to swallow a lake. He managed to curb the spirit enough that he didn’t glow with light. He could still feel his eyes spark blue. They might have been throwing off actual sparks. It certainly felt like they were.

The Iron Bull leaned back a bit and held up his hands. “Hey, now. Let’s not get crazy.”

“Shut up.” He pointed at the qunari. “You see them as things you can play with? You think it’s okay to hurt them? They’ve already been ground into dust. They’ve suffered enough. You won’t hurt them. Not on my watch. There is no such thing as ‘my people.’ There are just people and we protect them. We protect all of them and if you can’t do that, than you have no place here. Can you protect people?”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “Sure. Sorry.”

“I don’t care if you’re sorry. That woman following you around has a name. It’s Lysette. She watches you eat. She watches you sleep. She watches you breathe. She cannot be bribed. She cannot be turned away. You cannot escape her. She will watch you until I am satisfied that I can trust you not to be an idiot.”

“Okay. No problem.”

“You’re damn right, it’s not a problem. Get used to it.” Simon stalked off. Valour settled into place in his mind.

_:Perhaps he will behave more honourably in the future.:_

“Either way, we’ll be ready.”

As he left the packed earth of the gardens, Vivienne fell into step beside him. He eyed her a bit warily. He hadn’t even been aware that she’d been watching. She smiled and nodded imperiously. “Excellently done, my dear.”

“Thanks.”

“I only wanted to tell you personally that the funerary rites for the Tranquil have been completed.” She smiled silkily. “As I understand it, Fiona is quite pleased to have a former magister under her thumb. She’s making good use of him.”

Simon stared at her for a moment. Normally, he didn’t get along very well with Vivienne. At first, they’d had some good talks with her about the importance of restoring order to the land and how frustrating it was that the rebel mages and templars insisted on running around and burning everything. Then he’d learned about her opinion of the Circles and she’d learned about his possession and things had spiraled downwards from there. Their relationship would always be fraught with tension and he wasn’t sure they would ever really be friends. But for the first time, Simon thought that maybe they didn’t have to be enemies either. “That’s good,” he said.

Vivienne’s smile turned a touch softer. “Yes, my dear. It is.”


	7. The Magister's Birthright

“You never get anything nice for yourself,” Dorian said.

Simon looked at the store. They stood in the cobbled streets of Val Royeaux. Through the store’s window he saw beds and drapes. “Why would I?”

Dorian looked affronted. “Why not?” He smirked and came closer. “Come now. You have nobody to rub your shoulders. Nobody to feed you grapes. Get yourself something nice.”

Simon laughed and batted his hands away. “I can feed myself, Dorian. I’m not a child.” His hands went to the coinpouch at his waist. As he understood it, it wasn’t all his money, but it was enough to buy anything he wanted. He hefted the coinpouch just to feel its weight. If he’d had this much money available in the Circle, he could probably have bribed anyone he wanted. Maybe even the knight-commander. “And we should probably buy something useful. Does Varric need new armour? Or what about Sera? I might be able to make her a new bow if we get the right materials.”

Dorian wound his arms around Simon’s waist. “Buy a bed. I dare you.”

Simon choked back a laugh. “A _bed?_ Are you kidding? I can’t just buy furniture. Josie would kill me or something.”

“Nonsense, you’re the inquisitor. You can buy anything you like. Let’s go inside.” Dorian took his hand and pulled him into the furniture store. The masked Orlesian behind the counter glanced at them and sniffed disdainfully.

Simon had no doubt that they made an odd sight. He didn’t dress nearly as richly as the Orlesians sauntering around the city and Dorian refused to dress in anything but opulent fabrics that screamed, ‘I’m a Tevinter mage!’ Simon was still waiting for someone to say something about a mage walking about so openly, but there was something about the aristocratic tilt of Dorian’s head that made people ignore the fact that he was the most obvious mage that Simon had ever seen. Now that they were out of the Circles, most of the mages that he knew had gotten rid of their Circle robes immediately. He had burned his own and gleefully scattered the ashes months ago.

Dorian spread his arms wide. “Don’t be shy, go look around.”

Simon sighed and let the altus herd him throughout the store. There were samples of stained glass and piles of folded drapery that he didn’t dare touch. “I’m pretty sure that Josephine does all the decorating,” he said. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“It’s very simple. You just look around and buy whatever catches your eye.”

“Dorian.”

He set his hands firmly on his hips. “We’re not leaving until you pick something out.”

The shopkeeper perked up at that. He set down a sheaf of papers and came over. He smiled and Simon tried not to wince. It looked like an oil slick spreading across his face. “We have a variety of items for the discerning gentleman.”

The shopkeeper’s tone made it clear that he did not consider them ‘gentlemen.’ Simon imagined how the man might fawn over them if he knew that he was the inquisitor. He’d never appreciated being looked down on before. He smiled. “I guess a bed?”

The shopkeeper did an odd half-bow and led them over to a row of beds. Simon tried to keep his pained expression locked down. The beds were all horribly extravagant. He’d never be able to sleep in them. They’d had rough bunkbeds at the tower with thin, lumpy mattresses. At Haven, his mattress might have been stuffed with straw. He’d been able to feel the wooden slats of the bedframe through it. He had loved that bed. He had no idea where it was now. He missed it painfully. Currently, Josephine had given him a bed with a soft, thick mattress that he sank into. He went to bed each night and worried that one day he’d just fall through it and land on the floor.

The beds in the store looked to be of an even higher quality. They were awful. A few of them even had canopies. He eyed them as though they might bite. Simon shivered a bit. He was not ready to be the kind of man who went around swaddled in silk and slept in a bed large enough for five people. Why would a bed even need a canopy? It wasn’t as though they needed to worry about rain. He turned to Dorian. “Which one do you like?”

Dorian shook a finger at him. “I’m not saying a word.”

He sighed and meandered down the row of beds on display. “I just don’t know if any of these suit me.” Then he caught sight of something half-hidden behind a strategically placed curtain. “What’s that?”

The shopkeeper sucked in a breath and sidled in the way. “That item is not for sale.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It is,” the shopkeeper said dramatically, “out of style. I couldn’t possibly sell it to you. I am having workers take it away tomorrow.”

Well, now he really wanted to see it. He darted around the shopkeeper and pulled back the curtain. He gasped in delight. The bed frame caught his eye immediately. It was made of sawn tree trunks. He ran his fingers along the rough bark. A splinter snagged into his thumb. He drew his hand back and stared at it.

The shopkeeper craned over his shoulder to look at his thumb. He looked aghast, despite the mask. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Leave it to you,” Dorian said, “to get injured in a store.”

Simon bit the splinter out and slipped it into a pocket. The shopkeeper stared at him in dull horror. Simon grinned and sat on the bed. The mattress was too soft, but more than made up for it by the fact that it was covered in fur blankets. A large bear fur had been draped across the bed. He stroked its head and poked his fingers into its mouth to feel the teeth. The pillows were also covered in fur. “I like this one,” he said. “I’m going to get this one.”

Dorian smirked at him. Simon blushed and regretfully clambered off the bed. The shopkeeper shook off his haze of uncomprehending horror. “If you insist,” he said slowly. Once Simon told him where to have the bed delivered, he and Dorian left the store and wandered down a random side street.

Dorian poked him in the ribs. “You bought a bed. I’m scandalized.”

“It was your idea.”

“And I stand by it.” Something caught Dorian’s eye and he gasped. He pointed at a tiny bakery. “Is that what I think it is?” He went over to stare into the window. He gestured at some spongy, golden balls in the window display. “It’s a dessert, Simon. I haven’t seen them outside Tevinter. Mother used to take me out on the river and we’d have these. Rather, the servants would take me out and she would sit inside with a cool drink.”

“You go ahead and order. There’s something I need to get.”

Dorian arched a slender brow, and Simon blushed. “If that’s your idea of being cunning, you have a lot to learn. You’re not very subtle, amatus.” He prowled closer. “Are you planning something?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said defensively. “I’ll be fast.”

The altus took hold of his chin and kissed his cheek. “Fine then, keep your secrets. I like surprises anyways.”

Simon smiled and eased away. “Thank you. I’ll be back soon.”

He left Dorian standing in front of the bakery and went to find Ponchard.

 

The Pavus birthright was smaller than Simon thought it would be. The amulet fit snugly in his palm. The cool metal of the chain slipped across his fingers like silk. A peacock crafted of volcanic aurum hung off the delicate chain. The peacock's head and a sliver of the body was visible. The rest was a swirl of intricately carved feathers. He ran his fingers along the carved feathers. The eyes and feathers flashed with white gemstones. It was enchanted too. If Simon stared at it long enough, it looked as though the feathers began to sway in an intangible breeze.

Dorian was not very happy to get it back. They sat on Simon’s new bed and the altus held the amulet numbly. He stared at it and his throat worked. “How did you even know about this?” he asked. He sighed. “Leliana. Of course she would tell you.” His fingers curled around the birthright. “I didn’t want this.”

Simon deflated slightly. “Oh. I thought you wanted it back.”

Dorian’s lips pressed together tightly. “I wanted the birthright back. I didn’t want to be indebted to you or anyone. Now I am.”

He almost laughed at that. He clutched at Dorian’s arm. “Don’t be silly. You’re not indebted to me. It’s a present. I was trying to make you happy. It doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t want it to be. I mean, I literally gave out horses earlier.”

“This is…” A bewildered expression crossed his face. Then he looked offended. He shook the amulet at him. “Are you trying to compare the Pavus birthright to a few _nags?_ This is much more valuable than that.”

“I mean, they weren’t nags. I’m not a horse expert but they seemed-“

“Nobody,” Dorian said hotly, “would ever accuse you of knowing a single thing about horses.” He dropped the amulet on the bedspread and took Simon’s shoulders. Simon got momentarily distracted by the way his fingers dug into the curve of his shoulders. Dorian shook him slightly to get his attention. “This isn’t some gaudy little charm. I love my country and this is a symbol. It means I’m part of it.”

“Then I’m glad I got it for you,” he said firmly.

Dorian groaned. “You are such a frustrating man. Someone intelligent would cozy up to the inquisitor if they could. It’d be foolish not to. He can open doors, get you whatever you want, shower you with gifts and power. That’s what they’ll say. I’m the magister who’s using you.”

Even though the other man was genuinely distressed about this, Simon couldn’t help but laugh. Dorian hissed furiously and his nails pricked into his shirt. Simon waved a hand at him to forestall his catty remark. He took a few deep breaths to get his helpless laughter under control. “Dorian, listen. I grew up in the Circle. All my life I’ve had people forcing me to do things and using me. I’m free now. That means that nobody uses me ever again.” Simon poked the altus in the stomach. “That includes you.” He slid his arms around Dorian’s neck. “You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to, so don’t worry about using me.”

Dorian’s lips twitched into a smile. He grumbled. “Well. That much is true. You’re impossible and I’m an ass when it comes to accepting gifts. I apologize. And thank you.”

Simon grinned and straddled the other man. Dorian arched a brow. Simon leaned forward until they fell into the bed. Dorian laughed and slapped at his chest. “Off me, you savage. You still went against my express wishes. I’m not rewarding that sort of behaviour.”

Simon hummed thoughtfully and nuzzled into his neck. “Yes, you are. I’m sorry for taking your choices away, though. I won’t do that again.”

Dorian chuckled and smoothed his hands up his back. “You’re a terrible man and you’d do it again in an instant.”

Simon nipped at his jawline. “I said I wouldn’t do it again, I didn’t say I had regrets. Honestly, I’m counting on you not selling it again so I’m pretty sure I can make that promise safely.”

“You clever minx. Making promises you don’t expect to have to keep in the first place. I can’t believe you.”

“Yes, you can.”

Dorian sighed in exasperation. “You have too many clothes for this conversation.”

Simon ended up getting a reward after all.


End file.
